


give me every piece of you

by grandstander



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: soft and tender, like a flower.





	give me every piece of you

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> trying to get more comfortable with writing smut, so take this, ldmvklxmgbgf  
> sorry its trans garen? mbxklgbm idk. sorry the way i write smut isnt Cool and Sexy either i only know how to be poetic and wordy

Garen’s skin is soft, much softer than his own, it’s like running his fingers over silk and flower petals (though maybe that is clouded by the haze of being able to  _ touch _ him for the first time). Darius had tried before, and when he did, Garen had seemed to seize and withdraw in the same way a flower closes. Being able to touch him now was lovely and gorgeous in a way he couldn’t describe, it made his chest feel tight while the pit of his stomach grew warm and heavy. Now that he had the chance, his rough hands were as slow and gentle as he could force them to be. Darius could feel the tremor of his thighs as his fingers graced the skin, he was drawn in like the tide when Garen inhaled, the sound just as shaky as the quiver that moved through him. 

It was intoxicating in and of itself.

His hands were curled into tight fists full of his shirt, skin highlighted by wonderful tones of pink and red. The sight kept Darius enthralled and silent himself. He couldn’t dare to break it, to intrude on the instance of Garen slowly opening up for him. The desire to devour everything offered up to him was all consuming, enough to set a trance over him that could only be sated by the softness of Garens voice and the way he slowly withered in his hands. 

Darius breathes through his nose, watching intently and soaking in the sight of Garen pressed desperately against him, skin colored warm, and eyes half lidded. If he could drown himself in the sight of Garen like this in his arms, for him, only for him, Darius would. 

His index finger traces the inside of Garen’s thigh in one long stroke starting above his knee, and he watches as Garen’s chest rises and falls faster until his fingers draw closer to his core. Darius can feel the Demacians heartbeat thundering against his own stomach as Garen’s hands curl even further into his shirt. His breaths begin to leave him in shaking exhales, too, while he buries his face against the taller man’s chest as rough fingers raise fully and feel the curves of his folds. Darius doesn’t miss the tremor that shakes Garen’s hands, and silently he understands why Garen had drawn away from him when his hands traveled too low in past moments of intimacy. 

Darius breaks from his own frozen state, the hand that had been curled around Garen’s upper arm leaving and gently raising his chin. His blue eyes don’t follow the motion initially, only joining after Darius’s thumb strokes his cheek, and it’s like he has to coax him to Garen to continually flutter and open for him. It’s such slow, gentle work, and his rough hands and crude way of speech seem ill-fitting to the task, but Garen stays and parts for him each time, anyway. 

He kisses Garen, slow and tender, his lips moving languidly as his fingers move just as slowly against his sex. His fingers steadily grow wet as he teases by parting Garen slightly, just enough to feel the overwhelming heat growing at his core, which pries a moan from Garen that fans the flames of his hunger. Darius devours it, too, pressing firmly into the kiss and coaxing Garen to part for him in this, too, to let Darius take him fully.

The kiss only stops so Darius can hear the noises that leave the other man, whispers against the air and buried between the two of them. Darius craves to hear each one. He’s followed by one ocean-deep desire after another, like an insatiable craving for anything concerning Garen and the way he parts his lips or his legs for him. Each hunger is born again in each gasp, each moan, each tremble of Garen’s legs and it’s never  _ enough _ . Darius wants more, more from him, more of him, and it’s like being enraptured and held in a pair of angel’s wings, unable to part from the other man.

He fights the urge to kiss him again, to press his tongue into Garen’s mouth and drown further in the warmth of him, but the moan that falls from his lips soft and smooth makes Darius clench his jaw instead. He swallows his own voice and it falls to the very pit of his stomach like lead, like hot coals and it makes his body feel as warm as Garen feels. He finally parts his folds fully, fingers delving between him and the sound that comes from Garen is something like a keen that has his hands uncurling and grabbing a fist full of his shirt again in the same second. Darius inhales, enthralled in watching such an impeccable, perfect man reduced to clinging and soft, desperate sounds.

Two of his fingers roll slowly and smoothly over Garen’s clit and the sound it forces from Garen hitches in his throat and dissolves into a whimper, as if he was trying to diffuse it, to make himself smaller and quieter. Darius only takes it as a silent challenge to pull as much from Garen as he can manage. 

Darius caves to his desire in a half measure as he bows his head forward and presses his lips to Garen’s neck, his kisses an array of soft to rough, some chaste and others long enough to bruise the skin. Like clay being molded in his hands Garen leans into his touch, parting so that his neck was exposed like unblemished marble, and that only makes Darius want to mark him further. He tastes his skin, his tongue roaming down to the junction of his neck and collar, before burying his teeth into the soft, pliant skin and forcing another cry from Garen. In the same instance his fingers move over Garen’s clit again in deeper and rougher strokes. 

The first moan is only the beginning to a short series that fall from his lips like water, each stroke making his breathing falter or forcing a noise from him, each one an encouragement for Darius to continue. Each of his motions is more eager than the last, his fingers rolling over Garen’s clit before parting around the bud and pulling back in another stroke, squeezing just slightly to pull a  _ whine  _ from Garen. 

Darius pauses when he does fully hear that sound, as if frozen in place while his breathing grew heavy for a moment. Steadily moving from his trance, Darius wraps his other arm around Garen’s waist to pull him closer for him to feel how  _ hard  _ he’d become since touching him. The blush against Garen’s skin grows darker upon feeling Darius against his thigh and his exhale leaves him in uneven beats. Almost tentatively, he silently rolls his hips over the hand inside of him and the hard dick against him, wishing he could see and not just hear Darius groan as he did so. His fingers dig into Garen’s side while he presses his forehead against the other man’s shoulder, unmoving as his dick throbbed, still clothed.

They indulge in the moment, soak in it, until their breathing has evened and then Darius raises his head, only to rest his forehead against Garen’s. His fingers move slowly and tenderly inside of Garen again, further until the tips press just barely against his entrance. 

“Can I?” he asks, voice breathy and hoarse, deep enough to make Garen feel weak in the knees. 

Garen nods, his hands moving over Darius’s chest to wrap around his shoulders and kiss his chin. Darius is patient and allows himself to indulge in this moment of softer intimacy, moving to tilt his head and return the kiss given to him with a soft, chaste one on Garen’s lips. When he pulls away, he stays close, close enough to feel Garen’s breath against his skin and to watch every detail of his expression as his finger fully enters him. 

It’s wonderful watching him, seeing how beautiful he was, watching emotion and pleasure fill his usually so controlled features. It was like watching art being painted or a statue being carved, and its only his own desire to see and hear Garen that keeps him from burying himself into the other man entirely. 

His finger moves in slowly until he feels the entirety of Garen, warm like the fire in his stomach and soaked enough to drip over the rest of his curled finger. Darius only draws back to press another inside of him, and this time Garen’s brows crease and bend, lips parting in a silent exaltation. Darius watches him hungrily, ingraining the sight of Garen with his back arched, skin highlighted with crescendos of color, and lips parted to invite Darius to take him. 

Darius only falters to kiss the corner of his lips, a feeble attempt to pacify the want that burns through him down to his bones. It doesn’t soothe it, not really, but it makes him feel heavenly and the touch of Garen’s skin against his lips is a burn he can endure. He pulls back only to see Garen as his fingers curl inside of him, unrelenting in motion to scissor him further open, too, gradually making his moan grow louder and more desperate.

“Darius,” he pleads, while his hands clutch the other man’s back, his voice broken and weak from the way he’s withered into only feelings and desperation. His name leaves him again, another prayer, another vocalized want for  _ Darius _ . The kiss that meets Garen’s lips in response is open-mouthed and sloppy, punctuated by deep inhales and muffled noises as Darius slowly presses a third finger fully inside Garen, unable to fight his own need to take Garen and make him his own. 

Garen’s whine is muffled against his lips as one of his hands roam to clutch Darius’s arm while he unravels into nothing but warmth and passion in Darius’s arms. Darius only pulls away to hear his name whispered like a mantra, each syllable making his core throb and encouraging the pace of his hand. The quicker he moves the faster Garen is set into ruin, and how gorgeous he is, with his eyes barely open and his lips dark, open for each sound of adoration. Pieces of noises and groans leave him among labored breathing while his weight rests entirely against Darius, and the effort with which Darius is holding his waist is surely to bruise ( though it’s unlikely Garen will mind ). He can hardly notice, especially with the way Darius’s other hand was moving inside and out of him, an unrelenting pace with his face hovering above him. Garen aches to kiss him, but his thighs have begun to shake and he didn’t have the control to kiss him. The barely too far promise of such a kiss made him whine, too, and that was enough incentive for Darius to remain where he was.

Darius’s name comes in another fractured cry and Garen’s nails begin digging into his skin, running over his dark skin as his hips buck into Darius’s hand, the heat in his body becoming near unbearable. Darius still doesn’t kiss him, only watches from inches away as Garen’s mouth opens in a silent cry and he fully melts in his arm. A tremor starts in Garen’s spine and forces his hips to move harshly and unevenly for a few seconds, withering into quaking thighs and weak knees. 

His hand slows steadily, Darius watching him in silent awe as he clings to him and his legs continue to shake every so often. When Darius pulls out his hand, he can feel Garen’s orgasm drip from his fingers. 

Finally, he kisses Garen, slow and tender, mouth parted to taste and feel him. Garen cocked his head and parted his lips in return, opening himself again, like a flower blooming. 

Darius still finds he wants to devour everything Garen has to offer him.


End file.
